


Unexpected

by Peetabreadgirl



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 22:45:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11724150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peetabreadgirl/pseuds/Peetabreadgirl
Summary: Katniss isn't looking for love, but it finds her just the same. Originally posted for Love In Panem, Feb 2017.





	1. Chapter 1

Katniss pauses on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, smoothing down the bodice of her gray wrap dress. She was surprised when her friend messaged her the name of the place where she'd be meeting her mystery date - Terrilli’s - a popular Italian place in the city. She'd been wanting to eat here for a while, but the wait list and the price range had kept her away. There must have been a last minute cancellation, or he’s really good at sweet talk if he was able to get a reservation at one of the most desirable restaurants in the city on such short notice. And on Valentine's night, no less.

 

She checks her reflection in the windows as she walks by for any stray hairs that may have come loose from her braid after her high-heeled sprint through the subway. She still can't believe she agreed to such a cliche - a blind date on the most romantic night of the year - but her two perky, blonde roommates had made such a big deal about their own plans for the holiday that insecurity had crept in and cozied up to her feelings of loneliness, stirring a force she couldn’t easily overcome. So when her coworker, Johanna, offered to set her up with a cousin who was in town for the week, she hastily agreed. It was better than sitting home alone, waiting for Bubbly and Bubblier to come home and gush about their _oh-so-amazing_ evenings.

 

And if it turns out she has nothing in common with her date, which is a more than likely outcome for Katniss since he's not local, she'll never have to see him again. Free dinner, no strings, her own story to embellish when the tales her roommates share cross over into TMI. Which they always do with those two.

 

After tucking a few hairs behind her ear, her eyes see past her own reflection to a blond man sitting at a table alone, perusing a menu, a glass of deep, red wine sitting in front of him. A quick scan of the other tables shows they’re filled with couples, so he must be waiting for her. She's at least fifteen minutes late, so she can't fault him for starting without her. She's lucky he hasn't left yet.

 

Katniss lets her eyes linger on his easy features. He’s handsome. Well-dressed in gray slacks and a black button down, shiny black oxfords on his feet. She can tell by the cut of his jaw and the slope of his nose he’s got those all-American good looks. The pout of his lips adds to the allure, and she briefly wonders if she’ll get to kiss them tonight.

 

That’s definitely not where she saw this night going. She’s not prepared for the lone butterfly that takes flight in her belly. It could wake all the others, creating a force bigger than what drove her to this date in the first place.

 

On shaky legs, probably from the black patent heels she never wears, Katniss enters the restaurant, by-passing the hostess and heading straight for their table. She’s late enough as it is.

 

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she apologizes earnestly, a little breathless as she extends her hand. “I’m Katniss.” He looks up at her, the surprise clearly evident in the most beguiling blue eyes she’s had the pleasure of staring into. She feels the second butterfly join the first. Then, his hand slides hesitantly against hers. All she registers is softness and warmth, and a third flutter is added to the mix of what’s happening inside her.

 

“Nice to meet you. I’m Peeta.”  He cocks his head to the side curiously, and, though his eyes don’t venture below her neck, his perusal of her wakes the entire butterfly colony.

 

She takes a seat, and tries to ignore the way his eyes stay on her, wide and a little perplexed. Maybe she didn’t take enough time fixing herself up after her jog and she looks more unkempt than she could tell in the dull reflection of the windows outside. She picks up her menu and opens it. Mainly for her own distraction because she’s suddenly not hungry. At least not for lasagna.

 

“I’ve never been here before. Do you know what’s good?” It takes effort to get the words past her dry throat.

 

“Um-”

 

A waiter appears suddenly, cutting off Peeta’s response, which is good because his voice is hot enough to melt the small dish of butter sitting next to the bread between them. “Would you like a glass of wine, Miss?”

 

Katniss takes a peek at her date’s glass. “I’ll have what he’s having,” she says with a panicked smile she can feel to her toes. She’s so out of her comfort zone, and she probably wouldn't be able to pronounce the name of a fancy wine anyway. Her tongue feels like sandpaper.

 

The waiter nods and leaves, and Katniss returns her attention to the menu, still unable to look straight into Peeta’s gaze without getting trapped there. She has no idea how she made it out the first time and she’ll need to gain some confidence before she can dive back in.

 

“The Italian cream cake looks good,” she says, trying to fill the awkward silence. She’s not sure why she’s looking at the dessert menu. Maybe subconsciously she wants to skip dinner?

 

“It does, yeah,” he clears his throat and from beneath her eyelashes Katniss can see him take a drink of his wine. Is he as nervous as she is? She hopes so.

 

“So, um, Katniss?” He says her name like a question, as though he didn’t quite get it the first time, which seems off because surely Johanna told him her name. But maybe not, since Katniss didn’t know his name before tonight either. Strangely, that piece of information was lost in their communication. In the very few messages that had been sent with Johanna as go between - Katniss didn’t want a stranger to have her number if meeting him turned out to be an awful idea - to coordinate this get together, she hadn’t thought to ask for a name. And Johanna hadn’t thought to give it.

 

“Yes?” she answers, risking a quick peek at him. His elbows are on the table, hands steepled together, chin resting against them. Bright blue eyes stare back into hers, and his ashy, blond hair falls in waves over his forehead. It’s a little shaggy, but he’s still insanely attractive.

 

“Tell me about yourself.” The question is so broad, Katniss doesn’t know where to start. And the interested way he’s eyeing her isn’t helping settle the swarm.

 

“Oh, I, um, well, I’m single. Obviously.” _Way to go, idiot_. Of course he knows that, and she can feel the tinge of pink in her cheeks. He smiles and his eyes light up, easing her enough to go on. “I’m a medical transcriber, which sounds pretty boring, but I get to work from home in my pajamas, so...” She almost chokes on her own stupidity. Where is that waiter with her wine?

 

“It doesn’t sound boring at all,” he says through a chuckle. He must be throwing her a lifeline. She’s not even five minutes in and the evening is already going downhill.

 

Katniss gives him a tight smile before waving him off. “It’s okay. I’m used to it. I rarely talk about my job because my friends zone out within seconds.”

 

He taps the stem of his wine glass casually. “I’m actually a pediatrician, so it’s not boring to me at all.” Katniss perks up at this information.

 

“Really? You look so young.” She immediately chastises herself for such saying such a stupid thing. “I mean, obviously, you’re not _old_ \- not that all doctors are old - you just took me by surprise is all.” She pauses, feeling as though she needs to say something witty to counteract all the ignorance that just fell out of her mouth. “I mean, if my pediatrician had looked like you, I would have never grown up!” She couldn’t stop the words from coming out. They’d appeared in her head, sounding smart and even a little flirty, at the same time her filter and common sense forgot to mention they were going on a break.

 

The corners of his lips quirk and his eyes sparkle in the midst of her dismay. Her cheeks are in full bloom now.

 

Her phone rings inside her purse and she thanks the stars above for the momentary interruption. She needs a minute to gather her wits, if that's even possible.

 

She digs the phone out quickly, Johanna’s name flashing across the screen. “I just need to check this,” she says, pointing at the device. She feels like thanking her friend for introducing her to a gorgeous doctor, then in the same sentence, scolding her friend for introducing her to a gorgeous doctor. She couldn't be any worse at dating if she tried.

 

“Hello?” she answers in a hushed tone.

 

“Katniss? Where are you? Gale called and said you’re a no show.”

 

“Who’s Gale?” Katniss asks, thoroughly confused.

 

“Duh, my cousin? The guy you said you’d meet for dinner tonight?”   

 

Katniss’s eyes widen in disbelief, dashing up to meet the curious one’s of the guy sitting across from her, who is apparently not her date, and her heart vaults up into her throat and sticks the landing. The soft butterflies that had been drifting around in her belly suddenly morph into a hive of angry hornets. “Are you sure his name isn’t Peeta?” she whispers hopefully, even though she knows he can hear her.

 

“No, it’s Gale. And he’s at Teril’s Bar and Grill thinking he’s been stood up. Now are you on your way or not?”

 

 _Teril’s_. Mortification clamps down on her like a pack of leeches. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m on my way. Be there in a few.” She ends the call, and it suddenly dawns on her, the severity of her mistake. “Oh my goodness!” she cries, slapping her hand on her forehead. “You were waiting for someone! And I just sat down, and, and - you’re not him. And I’m not even in the right place…” Her chest is tight. Her arms are tingling. Her breath is short, mind racing. Is this what a heart attack feels like? She’s too young to die!

 

Peeta grins, but this time his eyes don’t light up. “It’s fine, Katniss. Don’t worry about it. I was eating alone anyway.” _Eating alone? But, why?_ Not that she has any right to ask him that question now that she’s intruded on his evening in the worst possible way. They weren’t even supposed to meet, and the thought washes over Katniss like a bucket of cold water. Though they’d only had ten minutes of awkward smiles and terribly embarrassing (on her part) conversation, she couldn’t imagine not knowing him.

 

“I’m really so, so very sorry,” she repeats as she begins to gather her things clumsily. Her phone slides from her hands onto the fancy carpet, and when she leans down to retrieve it, she bumps her head against the table, softly uttering a curse word. She needs to get out of there before she embarrasses herself even more.

 

She digs out a twenty dollar bill and places it on the table. “For the wine.”

 

“It’s not that much-” he starts to push the bill back to her but she stops him by placing her hand on his. At the touch, his gaze connects with hers so intensely she can feel the hornets calming, turning back into the sweet quivers from before. Good Lord, how is she going to walk out of this restaurant and never see him again? “Let me pay for yours, too. It’s the least I can do for ruining your evening.”

 

His eyes settle on every part of her face, searching, and she can feel the soft caress they leave behind. It’s like nothing she’s ever experienced before. His lips tighten into a thin line, and Katniss thinks how unfortunate it is to tuck them away like that.

 

“It was nice to meet you, Peeta,” she says before pulling her hand away and turning for the door.

 

“Katniss, wait!” From behind her comes his smooth as butter voice, the perfect end to a Valentine’s night if it had gone on hours longer. Or any night of the year for that matter. Ironically, it cuts through her more like a butter knife.

 

She turns, only a few feet from her chair as he stands and tosses the neatly folded napkin onto the table. He has a stocky, medium build that’s quite attractive. She’s trying to afford him the same courtesy he gave to her earlier when they first met, and keep her eyes above his neck, but his broad shoulders and tapered waist are begging to be noticed. “Can I have your, uh, number?” Her eyes snap to his.

 

“My number?” Katniss echoes his question back to him, oblivious to the startled look on her face. She’s surprised after her display that he’d want it at all.

 

It’s his turn to look embarrassed, and he does a charming job of it. Can he be any more perfect? “I, uh, might be needing a transcriber in the near future,” he explains.  

 

“Oh.” Now she understands. It’s not like she didn’t already know she was out of her league, but she didn’t expect the reality of it to crush her like it does. She pulls out a sliver case and pops it open, removing a slim rectangle of paper. “Here’s my business card.” She avoids brushing his fingers when he takes it, already familiar with what just a touch from him can incite.

 

“Is this your cell?” he asks, looking up at her through blond lashes so long Katniss wonders how they don’t tangle.

 

“Um, yeah, it’s the only number I have.” He nods and brushes the card absently across his fingers. “Well, okay, sorry again,” she tells him, trying to move past the awkwardness of their long pause.

 

“Don’t be sorry. It was… unexpected, but I’m glad it happened,” he offers her a smile, both genuine and sweet, leaving no doubt that his next words are the truth. “It was really nice to meet you, Katniss.”

 

She watches for a moment as he settles back at his table, motioning for the waiter, then forces her eyes away and her feet to carry her into the cold evening, bound for the much less romantic Bar and Grill, wondering about the chances of garnering fate twice in one night.

 

 

The sun streams in through Katniss’s blinds, letting her know she missed her alarm. It’s not a big deal, though. She wasn’t lying when she told Peeta she works most days in her pajamas.  Between her lateness leaving her apartment and the mixed up meeting with Peeta, she ended up being over an hour late to meet Gale. Which meant she’d returned home much later than she’d anticipated. Thankfully, her roommates were still out and she could shake off the disappointment she felt and crash in her bed. She was asleep well before they came home.

 

Rolling out from beneath the covers, her thoughts drift to Gale. He’d asked to see her again tonight, but she has yet to give him an answer. He’s handsome for sure, but in a completely opposite way than Peeta. He’s taller and less broad, but still fit looking, with cautious silver eyes, where Peeta’s are more open and honest, like a crystal sea of blue you could see straight through. Gale had also seemed a little peeved at having to wait around for her, whereas Peeta had been laid back, even accommodating, about a complete stranger disturbing his peaceful dinner for one. That still perplexed her. He’d pushed her money away and made her feel like he’d been truly grateful for her company.

 

Katniss checks her phone, noting that it’s dead. No wonder she didn’t hear the alarm. She plugs it in and heads for the shower. When she returns, wrapped in a towel and still not fully awake, she’s surprised to see a message from an unfamiliar number.

 

Gale doesn’t have her cell. Since Katniss wasn’t as into him as he seemed to be into her - something that might have been different if it hadn’t been for her little meet up with Peeta - she’d elected to let him know if she would meet up with him again through Johanna. She flicks the message open and her pulse skips ahead when she sees his name.

 

_P: Hi, Katniss. It’s Peeta. We met at Terrilli’s last night._

 

An involuntary smile splits her face. As if she could forget meeting him.

 

_P: I hope the rest of your evening was pleasant. I wonder if I could send some transcription work your way?_

 

She reads the message a few times, wondering if she should respond to all of it, or just the request to send work. What would she even say? The truth would be that it was pleasant enough, but it would have been better if she hadn’t answered Johanna’s call. Then she would have been none the wiser and stayed with Peeta the rest of the night. That is, until Peeta told her he wasn’t her date, which brought up a question that had been on her mind since leaving the restaurant the night before. _Why didn’t he say something?_

 

_K: Sure! My email is_ [ _keverdeen@gmail.com_ ](mailto:keverdeen@gmail.com) _. I can get it done today._

 

She really couldn’t, but she’d move it to the top of the pile for Dr. Adorable.

 

_P: Wow, that would be amazing. I knew something good happened to me last night._

 

Is he flirting? Katniss isn’t well-versed enough to know, and last night’s conversation is evidence of that. She cringes at the few things she said, and it makes her think it’s unlikely that he is.

 

She decides to skip trying to flirt back, since it would inevitably lead to a string of text bloopers embarrassing enough to be posted to facebook as a meme titled _Flirting Dont’s_ or _What Not to Text to a Hot Doctor._ Or anyone for that matter.

 

Her phone pings with a new email, and she checks it to find a file from [mellark@pediassociates.com](mailto:mellark@pediassociates.com). His work email. There’s little doubt now that it’s a purely professional relationship, so her next question, while direct, shouldn’t put him off. But it’s been sitting at the forefront of her mind for hours, making her unable to think of much else.

 

_K: You don’t have to answer this, but I’ve been curious - Why didn’t you say something when I sat down at your table last night?_

 

Moments that feel like hours tick by before she receives a reply. She watches the response bubble pop up and then disappear at least five times before the message comes through.

 

 _P: Honestly? I thought you were beautiful and intriguing and I didn’t want you to leave. So I didn’t say anything_.

 

He thinks she’s beautiful? Her stomach flutters to life with the same butterflies she felt last night when she saw him, a sensation that she can only equate to an unfamiliar kind of happiness mixed with a delicious fear of the unknown. And while it’s flattering and her cheeks are turning pink in the solitude of her room, she doesn’t know how to respond. She’s not good with compliments. Thankfully, another message follows the last one.

 

_P: And I understand completely if you’re angry with me. I should have been forthcoming that I wasn’t expecting anyone, but I just couldn’t let you leave without knowing something about you. Please accept my apology._

 

He’s apologizing. The words are so genuine she melts into a puddle.

 

_K: Please don’t apologize._

 

Her fingers hover over the keys as she thinks about telling him the truth. He gave her an honest answer about why he hadn’t mentioned her mistake. Can she be as honest with him when he hasn’t even asked the question she has the answer to? He may never ask it, though, and that’s what makes her type it out.

 

_I wish I could have stayed. I really didn’t get to know much about you. Other than you’re a young doctor._

 

It’s too obvious if she says handsome, young doctor, right? _Probably_. Should she use a winky face emoji? It feels like it could be casual. But what if he’s just being nice? She might as well come out and tell him he’s gorgeous. Of course, she sort of did that on their non-date. Throwing caution to the wind, she adds the wink and sends the message. Her heart is in her throat again and those same butterflies are banging against her rib cage, attempting a riotous escape.  

 

She can’t wait for his reply. It’s too nerve wracking, so she sets the phone down, braids her hair, and dresses in record time. She stares at the phone from across the room. The screen is dark. If she hits the home button and nothing is there, the hope inflating her chest might burst.

 

He probably didn’t reply at all and she decides to ignore the phone a little longer and goes to make coffee.

 

Stepping away from her phone is so worth it because when she comes back with a steaming mug of coffee, she opens the screen to 3 messages and one picture from Peeta. The smile actually hurts her face and she almost drops her phone trying to get the damn thing open.

 

_P: Funny you should say that._

 

_P: I ordered the Italian cream cake after you left. It was delicious, just like you thought._

 

The third message is the snapshot of said cake with its dreamy, frosting-covered, triple layers that look so decadent her teeth are aching from ghost cavities. It’s almost too beautiful to eat. Almost.

 

_P: I was kind of hoping you might want to share this one with me tonight? That is, if you don’t have any more blind dates lined up. ;)_

 

He winky face emoji’d her back! She can’t believe he wants to see her again. It feels like one of those ‘pinch yourself’ moments, so she does and it stings like a bitch, but the pain is worth it. So worth it.

 

For her reply, she decides to be playfully evasive.

 

_K: I have no more blind dates lined up._

 

_P: Is that a yes?_

 

_K: It’s a yes. ;)_

 

Maybe she can do this flirting thing after all.

 

Quickly, as though if she doesn’t do it now then Peeta’s offer will go away, she pulls up the thread with Johanna’s name on it and sends a message asking her to please let Gale know she won’t be able to meet up tonight. Not that she wanted to anyway. She just needed to think of a good reason to turn him down, and this is a better reason than any she’d thought up so far.

 

_J: Any reason I should give him?_

 

Not any reason she wants him to know.

 

_K: Just apologize for me and tell him something came up._

 

_J: Sounds like you’re blowing him off, Everdeen. What is it?_

 

She wants to reply ‘nothing’, but the way her stomach is dipping and soaring like it’s a butterfly bursting from its cocoon, taking flight for the first time tells her it’s definitely _something_. She won’t be able to keep it a secret for long, though. Johanna is persistent when she wants information. But for now, vague truth seems to be best until she can at least figure out what’s happening.

 

_K: I’ll tell you all about it later, but let’s just say it’s something very… unexpected._


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peeta's POV

 

 

“What’s gotten into you today?” Lavinia, the PA in his pediatric office, asks as Peeta picks up the chart of one of his patients.

 

“What do you mean?” He gives her a funny look.

 

“You’re whistling and all happy,” she tells him with a cocked brow.

 

His own eyebrows raise in challenge. “I’m always happy,” he replies, knowing it’s not the complete truth, but he’s never unpleasant. He’s built his reputation on the best bedside manner a doctor could hope to achieve. There is a wait list of families dying to become patients of Dr. Peeta Mellark based on his happy demeanor and way with children.

 

But now that it’s been brought to his attention and he can compare last night’s accidental meeting with Katniss against every minute before it, he knows something has shifted. He’s not _unhappy_ per se, but he can’t deny he could be happier, and there’s something about Katniss that magnetizes that hope in her direction.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he deflects, not yet ready to reveal his fast inflating hopes and crazy luck from the night before.

 

He’d thought he was in love once before, in his junior year of college, but that had ended in flames and his grades had suffered for it. It had almost lost him his scholarship, so he’d sworn off dating, or even looking at women until he’d graduated med-school. It was a long, lonely road, and once he’d finally gotten there - and at the top of his class, too - he’d continued to focus on his residency and opening up his own practice.

 

Now, at the age of 33, he knows it’s time to jump back into the dating pool. He still can’t believe his luck; a beautiful girl sat down at his table that was never meant to be there. She wasn’t even meant to be in the same restaurant, or even the same side of town as him. He’d thought on it all night. Had wanted to text her the second she stepped out of the restaurant. But he’d waited. And it killed him to think she was meeting up with someone else. What if they hit it off? He had no right, he knew that, but fate had been testing him, and he sure as hell was planning on passing.

 

“Hello, Jenny,” Peeta coos sweetly as he enters the princess room. He’d insisted on themed rooms for the kids to make them feel happy in his office and help take their little minds off their troubles and pains. “What seems to be the problem?”

 

Though his question is for the blonde girl he sees at least once each month, her mother speaks up. “She has a cough. Cough for him, honey,” Ms. Rogers directs her daughter, as if giving her a signal. Peeta wants to roll his eyes. He knows there’s nothing wrong with Jenny. She’s perfectly healthy. There is, however, something wrong with Glimmer Rogers.

 

Still, Peeta is nothing if not the consummate professional, so he checks Jenny over, takes her temperature, asks her a series of questions. At one point he has to stand in between Jenny and her mother to block the signals she’s giving the little girl. Glimmer would make a fantastic baseball coach.

 

“Looks like you may just have a bit of a dry throat. Drink more water and suck on this lollipop, alright?” Peeta pulls a green apple flavored sucker from his coat pocket - the flavor he knows is her favorite - and hands it over. Jenny’s eyes light up and she unwraps the treat to pop it in her mouth. “Why don’t you wait in the front room and let me speak with your mother, alright?”

 

Jenny nods her head enthusiastically and leaves the room.

 

“Is it serious?” Glimmer asks as she closes the distance between them with two strides, settling her hand on his upper arm. He glances over her and wonders, not for the first time, why she tries so hard. She’s pretty in a conventional, California-girl way, although she wears skin tight yoga pants and cleavage baring tops every time he sees her, revealing her goods to any and everyone. He’s well aware of the way single moms try to attract him.

 

This is why Katniss was such a breath of fresh air last night. She’d completely disarmed him with her nervous charm and unabashed wit. And then his gut had twisted at her profuse apologies and abrupt departure. That’s when he knew he needed to see her again, so he’d rushed after her to get her number, albeit under false pretenses. He’d sent her a transcription, just like he’d promised, and she got it done in record time and with such professionalism and perfection he fell even harder for her.

 

Forcing his mind back to the present, Peeta shook his head and smiled sincerely at Jenny’s mother. “No, she’s fine. She hasn’t been sick since the first time I examined her over a year ago. You’ve done a wonderful job keeping her healthy, Ms. Rogers, but I really need you to only bring her in for well checks and if she has a fever.” Peeta pats Glimmer’s hand and gently removes it from his bicep. “There are sick children that need the spaces you frequently reserve for your healthy girl.”

 

He sees the flash of irritation at being rejected in her dark blue eyes. “I’m only concerned for the well being of Jenny, Dr. Mellark. I want to catch germs and such before it turns into something worse.” She huffs and hastily makes her way out of the room. He wonders if it’s too much to hope she won’t be back unless Jenny needs real medical attention. He finds himself wishing Jenny all the health in the world.

 

 

Seeing patient after patient drug the day out like never before. Peeta knew it was because Katniss was waiting at the end of it. He hadn’t been able to get his mind off her. Every little girl with dark curls or little boy with blonde hair he treated made him think of what it was he really wanted. What he’d put off for long enough. And whom he wanted it with. It was way too soon - _way_ too soon - to be thinking that way. He knew this, yet something deep in his bones whispered to him that this was it.

 

Now, standing in front of her door, his palms were sweaty and his heartbeat was erratic. He wondered if maybe it had all been a fluke. She wasn’t so charming or beautiful or magnificent as his lonely heart made her out to be. He would know any second.

 

He didn’t feel the door under the weight of his knuckles as he knocked. He couldn’t feel his toes or swallow. His mouth was drier than sun-baked dirt. He barely registers the door swinging open, light from the inside shining out into the dark hall, bathing this dark-headed beauty in a swath of angelic light. She’s wearing a sweater dress that fits her like a glove and flat riding boots. Her hair is braided and hangs over one shoulder.

 

No, his mind had definitely not played tricks on him. How could she be even more radiant than she was only 24 hours ago?

 

“Peeta.” Katniss is first to speak and Peeta feels his mouth flop open and closed, like a fish out of water. He finally manages to whisper her name. He clears his throat and tries again.

 

“Katniss. You look lovely.” He remembers the flowers he bought just minutes ago at the grocer on the corner, and holds a bouquet of white daisies out to her. Her gorgeous gray eyes widen and a full smile appears on her pink lips. He thinks about kissing those lips.

 

 _Slow down, buddy,_ he tells himself, taking a slight step back.

 

She takes the flowers from him, her eyes darting back and forth between them and Peeta. “Thank you. I’ll be right back,” she says sincerely, and disappears only for a short time, but to Peeta it feels like an eternity.

 

“Ready?” he asks when she reappears in her winter coat. She nods and he holds out his arm for her. When she slides her hand through the crook of his elbow, he places his hand over hers, berating himself for wearing gloves. Practically speaking, it’s freezing out and he’d be crazy not to. But impractically speaking, he could be touching her skin right now because her hands were bare.

 

“Would you like my gloves?” he asks her before they step into the cold. She gives him a shy smile that heats his already melted heart.

 

“I’ll be fine, thank you,” she says. Peeta keeps his hand over hers the entire two blocks it takes for them to walk to Eno’s Pizza, a trendy but casual place he picked for their first date. Or is it their second? He doesn’t really care as long as it turns into more.

 

They sit in a cozy booth across from each other. Peeta would rather sit right beside her, thigh touching thigh, fingers and gazes locked in silent affirmation, but he doesn’t let on that he’s already planned their wedding, booked their honeymoon, and built their first home in his head. There’s a porch swing out front and a trash compactor in the kitchen. It’s crazy even for him to consider, yet it’s there and he can do nothing to stop it.

 

Katniss orders white wine and Peeta orders red. They share a pie topped with goat cheese, basil and proscuitto as Peeta tells her all about working with kids and the crazy things they say. Katniss laughs, and to him it’s the perfect harmony he’s been missing for so long to accompany his lonely melody. It’s so cliche, he thinks, but they’d make such beautiful music together.  

 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” she hesitates, the lovely smile slipping from her lips. “It’s just been on my mind all day…”

 

“Ask me anything,” he encourages her. He’d tell her whatever she wants to know; his most intimate secrets, his bank account and social security numbers. The names he’s chosen for their four children. Okay, well, he doesn’t actually have that information.

 

_Yet._

 

“Why were you alone on Valentine’s night?”

 

Peeta drops his eyes, but his lips curl up into a smile. Fate isn’t going to let him off the hook. No time like the present to be honest, he guesses, but Katniss rushes to fill the silence he let fall between them.

 

“It’s just… hard to believe a guy like you would be alone. You’re a catch, Peeta. Is there… someone else? Was she not able to come?”

 

The reluctant way she asks the question moves his heart to his throat. He suddenly wants her to know without a doubt that there is no one else. “Actually, I… haven’t seen anyone seriously in a decade.” There was the office Christmas party last year, and that one graduation party where he’d let loose for just that night. Oh, and his brother’s bachelor party where he’d made out with the stripper like a teenager, until his training had kicked the alcohol glazed-frenzy to the curb and reminded him of communicable diseases that were rampant in professions such as hers.

 

Her eyes widen and her mouth falls open, as he expected it would. As his would have if the situation had been reversed. “I’ve just been career focused, and I know it’s time to add more to my life, so I made the reservation at Terilli’s months ago, hoping I would have a date by then. Or even a fiance,” he laughs nervously and his hand reaches to run the back of his neck and he glances up at her, surprised by the emotion in her eyes. “Anyway, it, uh, kind of snuck up on me and I found myself still alone.” He laughs lightly, nervously. “It takes months to get into that place, so I went. And then you showed up. And sat down in the seat I reserved for my plus one.”

 

Katniss has a far away gaze in her eyes and doesn’t say anything for a few beats. Peeta’s heart hammers in his chest. He didn’t outright say fate had brought them together, but if she asked he wasn’t going to lie.

 

The waitress comes over to collect their plates and show them the dessert menu. Katniss declines the sweets and Peeta follows suit, sad that the night seems to be coming to a close.

It ends too quickly for him, and he can only hope she feels the same.

 

It’s brutally cold outside, but he slows their walk back to Katniss’s apartment, desperate to do anything that prolongs their time together. They take the stairs lazily, fingers entwined, arms swinging between them. No gloves were worn on the walk back. As a doctor, Peeta should have insisted she borrow his, but he couldn’t resist wanting to be the one that kept her warm.  

 

They stop in front of her door. He wants to kiss her. Been thinking about it all night, but Katniss’s eyes dart around the hallway, landing on his every now and then. He wonders what she’s thinking, but he becomes concerned when she uses her hand to fan herself, looking flushed and a little faint. His doctor instincts kick in.

 

“Are you alright?” He touches her forehead with the back of his hand, then moves it to her warm cheek.  

 

“Y-yes. I’m fine just a little,” she swallows, “overheated.”

 

“You don’t feel feverish,” he says seriously, stepping closer as he wraps his hands around the base of her neck, thumbs snaking over underneath her jaw to feel the glands there.

 

“It’s not, I’m not… _sick_ -sick. I’m just, you make me nervous. That’s all. I really like you, Dr. Mellark.” Her voice deepens when she says his professional name. It makes some things - like his heart - turn to mush, and other things turn very rigid.

 

“Lucky for you, I can prescribe the exact remedy you need,” he says smoothly, his thumbs brushing back and forth under her jaw. He can feel her swallow, see her eyes darken as her lashes shutter with the same need he’s feeling.

 

“Should I take some aspirin and call you in the morning?” Her voice is rough now, deeper than before.

 

“Not even close,” he whispers, dipping his head and brushing his lips against hers. They’re as soft as they look. She parts them for him and the tip of her tongue darts out. He stifles a groan, ignoring the intensity he really wants to give into, instead moving his lips to the corner of her mouth, placing tender kisses across her cheeks, eyelids, brows, and finally landing on her nose. “Kisses. Lots and lots of kisses,” he says as he pulls away.

 

“I’m not cured, yet,” she admits, a small, playful smile dancing in her eyes and on those soft lips he now knows he’ll never tire of. “In all honesty, I may never be cured.”  

 

“Then feel free to kiss me anytime you want,” he says, backing her into the door before finally giving in to the drug they both need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More?

**Author's Note:**

> Always like to know your thoughts! Pbg


End file.
